


Special Order

by newtype



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 90's aesthetics, Alternate Universe - Food Service, Canon Gay Character, Car Sex, Comedy, Drive-in au, Gender Dysphoria, Hand Jobs, Humor, Keith eventually takes Shiro to flavortown, M/M, Pre-op Keith, Public Blow Jobs, Recreational Drug Use, Rollerblades & Rollerskates, SHEITH - Freeform, Slushies, Space Hooters, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character, booty shorts, trans author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-17 21:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15470268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtype/pseuds/newtype
Summary: In which Keith works at an infamous nineties, hooters-hybrid drive-in called theTwin Moons.Keith has finally found a job that lets him race across glowing pavement on roller-blades in a growing metropolis -- but only in exchange for wearing a skimpy outfit. Luckily for him, his friend Pidge is nothing but supportive of his endeavors to save up enough cash for surgery and leave like lighting.It seems as if little can tear him away from this kitschy, neon palm-tree daydream until a wealthy customer begins to take a liking to him. Summer has finally arrived, and things are starting to gethot.





	1. Welcome to the Twin Moons

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for everyone who supported me in writing this AU. Special thanks to my beta reader Rei for helping make the fic come together. I plan to publish all three chapters as soon as possible. This fic is incredibly, incredibly self-indulgent. I'm a trans guy myself and have wanted to read a light-hearted fic with trans Keith for a while, so I hope this is okay. 
> 
> Also, thank-you to Soap for designing the vaporwave-inspired logo of the "Twin Moons" franchise.
> 
> tw: there is discussion of dysphoria, as Keith is pre-op and does has some body image issues. He's working towards top surgery by working at a space hooters. Please enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another slow day at the Twin Moons results in an unlikely encounter.

Peace of mind was Keith’s shoes hitting the hot pavement on a bright morning. His routine on the running path was sacred, a silent promise that would take him away from his problems. Exerting himself as far as he could from his apartment, Keith kept a running clock in head, counting down the number of steps he took, keeping track of the beating of his lungs against his chest. He was the happiest like this, pushed to his very limits and able and willing to strive for something better for tomorrow. That was, at least the beginning of what his routine meant, the closer he’d get to progress and stability the more he kept at it. Keith quickly wiped the sweat from his forehead, brushing aside his curled hair as he felt his lungs beg for his release. He inhaled, and exhaled, repeating the rhythm as he watched the trail below him bob up and down with his steps. A single point at the end of the trail beckoned him, his finishing line, blocked by a final stretch of concrete until he crossed it. The sun bore heavily down on him. Clouds were nowhere to be seen.

And then it was time for reality. Coated in shiny sweat, Keith absentmindedly showered and rinsed himself of the stress built up in his muscles. The cold water helped wake him up – warm his senses, quieting the bone-deep ache in his legs.

But his mind was clearly still stuck daydreaming. Even on the drive to Twin Moons, he felt slightly off his feet, longing to be back on the running path instead of his typical nine-to-five shift. Summer had arrived and was lashing mercilessly down on the pavement now that morning was gone, creating sweltering waves of heat making the horizon ripple. Keith accepted it with a spike of annoyance. This was his life now, he decided. This was the typical grind that all adults eventually have to go through, he reminded him. His own resistance felt like gravel on road, uneven and jagged – Keith loved to hate his job, hated having to pretend to love it to customer’s faces.

The sun reminded him of a rotten egg. He felt his stomach twist at the thought, realizing he’d missed breakfast before sneaking through the back door. The employee’s room was relatively empty save for a few early risers that greeted him with bright-eyed, perky smiles.

Not among them was Pidge, who was sipping a thermos of black coffee, sitting on the bench already in her uniform: a white crop-top with the Twin Moons logo and black cut-off shorts. She and Keith were both commiserating without words, glowering in mutual annoyance at the pep of their fellow coworkers. However, Keith resisted laughing at her half-lidded expression, clearly suffering from another late night of tinkering with her computers instead of getting proper sleep.

"Well, look who showed up," Pidge commented. She pushed up her glasses and scooted off the bench, black sneakers hitting the floor with a thud. "You didn't pick up after work when I got home, so I got a little worried and ended up pulling an all-nighter fixing my laptop."

"Did you squish any computer virus?" Keith teased. He put down his bag and entered the combination into his employee locker. It sprang open as he pulled on the handle, revealing an almost empty interior other than a few pairs of his uniform.

As he changed out of his binder into his proper top, Pidge whistled and made finger-guns at him.

"Here come the boys," she laughed.

"Shut the fuck up," Keith muttered under his breath. He covered his chest, face painfully red. "At least I'm not a washboard." They were joking, but still.

Pidge mockingly gasped, clutched her heart and whined. Without any pause, she resumed getting ready and finished her coffee. When Keith was done, he brushed aside a lock of hair, refusing to catch himself in the mirror. He appreciated his broad shoulders and narrow hips – they typically worked in his favor when he was actively trying to pass for male. It typically worked. However, he lamented his chest which felt tight in his uniform, more likely his imagination than anything else. Pidge continuously bugged him – as sensitively as she could – why he even chose this job if it meant dressing up at the opposite gender for him. Part of Keith wanted to find an explanation, to manage to say something substantial, but all he could tell her was that it was the best-paying option for him.

She understood. Keith could trust her. They’d been friends for a few years at this point, and Pidge was the only person he was “out” to for the time-being. For a long time, he felt like a fake, someone who clearly didn’t deserve the right pronouns or name because of the work he did. But Pidge had helped him work through those thought of invalidation, bring him into a brighter, better place. She’d turned him into an optimist when he thought the entire world was turned against him, trying to hurt him, ruin everything for him. A gremlin-shaped beacon of light.

It was only going to be a few more months until his top surgery, and then he could end his hyper-fixation on his body. It was an aggravating, slow grind, but he'd remind himself nothing about dysphoria was fun to begin with. That he wasn't owed anything other than what he earned with his own blood, sweat, and tears. Once the proper arrangements were in place, he'd be able to move on with his goddamn live, find another job, and hopefully bring Pidge with him as well.

That was the best-case scenario, anyways.

"We're opening in ten," Pidge reminded him. She carried a pair of rollerblades in one hand, a bright spring-green that Keith admitted matched her personality. "I'll meet you then?"

"Alright," Keith answered. He swiped a pair of red skates from his own locker, taking a moment to appreciate their charming color before rushing off to join her.

A flash of sun glared through the window, aimed straight at the slushie machine. Nature was being plain defiant at this point, trying to nuke the cold out of Twin Moon’s sole source of icey refreshment. Keith sighed, pleased to be temporarily back inside the air condition lobby. He snatched a drink of water before putting his skates back on, ready to serve another loyal patron of this fine establishment.

The Twin Moons had something of a notorious reputation. The nineties just happened to be a good time for gimmicky fast-food chain. Located outside of the suburbs but still relatively close to the shopping district, the Twin Moons served a particular group of visitors passing through the Galran-owned property. Compared to other chains, the Twin Moons still served a very specific demographic: those who wanted to be served shakes and burgers by pretty servers in skimpy outfits. It was as simple at that – add a drive-in theme to the mix and it was clear who the intended audience was. Not that their food was bad, just that it wasn't exactly the same spectacle when it came to service.

A pink, round neon sign began to glow as the sun set. A harsh tangerine mix of clouds collected over the sky, stripping away the brightness of the day in place of a dim curtain of light. Keith inhaled and skated his way through the service lane, delivered another tray with a fake smile, and turned around back to the lobby. That was the trick – making sure you never made contact with the patron but give them a show nonetheless. If not of your body, at least your talent on the skates, which Keith immensely preferred over flashing his ass. When he made it back, Pidge was unfastening her skates, her messy brown hair folded back in a thin black headband. She cleaned her glasses feverishly, rubbing circles through them with her official Twin Moons uniform until she got her next client.

"Did you see the car that just pulled up?" she asked him.

Keith stretched his arm over his shoulder, still on his skates. His impressive feats of balance still didn't seem to impress Pidge.

"No, what about it? The white one?"

"Yeah. It looks really nice. I bet a rich guy drives it, or something," she continued, eyes still fixed on her glasses. "I bet he'll give you a big tip if you serve him."

Keith raised his brow and bit his bottom lip with mild indifference. Sure, guys left him nice tips all the time. And he did want a new pair of running shoes. But that didn't necessarily mean the neatest looking guys left the biggest tips.

"Oh, I get what you're saying," Keith snapped. He connected the dots. Pidge bursted out laughing.

"Sure thing, spitfire. You're our resident Mars, if you know what I mean."

"I get it," Keith answered. He was getting slightly aggravated with Pidge. This was their typical routine, however – Pidge poking fun at him, until he eventually did what she wanted. It was mutually beneficial. For the best part. "You're saying if I skate better than usual, he'll tip me for the show."

"Ah, well," Pidge stuttered. She waved in front of herself with her arms, making oval shapes. Keith mockingly kicked her, drawing a soft yelp from her until she finally quit it.

"We'll see. If he tips, he tips. You're just not certain, right?"

"You're trying to rouse me up, and I promise you it won't work. I'm going home. My babies need me."

"You mean your in-house computer farm."

"Yes, that's what I mean," Pidge laughed. “My blog isn’t going to update itself.”

A brief ringing noise interrupted their conversation. Taking this as his cue, Keith waved Pidge goodbye and tightened his skates to pick up the order. Pidge threw him a peace sign and went back to the employee locker-room, humming as Keith started blazing towards their current customer of interest. By the time Keith flew out the door, he was rolling on hard concrete, balancing two slushies and a boxed burger in his hands, praying with all his might he didn’t drop it.

* * *

 

Lights flashed across the busy street from Twin Moons. Hover-cars and various shuttle-pods were zooming by during the peak of rush hours. Fortunately, this was also the best time to get tips from customers straight on their way home from work. Keith whistled to himself quietly, pleased with himself, and twirled on his skates as he made a beeline towards the white car parked at the designated drive-in gate. The car's headlights flashed on, making Keith squint until he caught a glimpse of the man sitting behind the wheel. His heart fluttered.

A handsome, white-haired individual with impossibly broad shoulders in a black dress-shirt and tie. Clearly an office worker, Keith thought. A pair of fuzzy dice hung draped over the headboard mirror. Keith smirked, and performed another twirl, giving his audience of one a proper view of his built thighs and ass in his uniform shorts. When he arrived at the service gate, Keith bent over to deliver the tray, pleased to finally see the man up-close once he pulled down the front seat window.

"And who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?"

Keith felt like a fish stuck on dry land. He opened his mouth, but quickly saw the man stare past his face. To his nametag, obviously.

"Keith?"

"That's me," Keith replied. He nudged the tray towards the window, letting the man take it into his possession and place it on the passenger seat. Keith smiled – he was well-dressed, apparently, and the interior of the car looked neat and taken care of it. Significantly better than most of the rat's nests he'd encountered since he began working for the joint.

"Two slushies and a burger. No soft drinks – is that right?" Keith asked.

"Perfect. Here you go –"

Somehow during the exchange, Keith felt a cold splash hit against his chest. Alarmed, he slipped back and examined the damage. Realizing the drink had spilled, embarrassed and shocked Keith turned around to see that his white top had been soaked. Because of it, he swore he could make out the fat curve of his chest, everything left bare and exposed behind a cheery, kitschy Twin Moons logo. Two cartoon coconut palm-trees thankfully covered most of the damage..

"Oh hell," Keith gasped under his breath. Not only did he make a mess, but he inadvertently flashed his tits at his customer. Hopefully none of it was caught on tape, he panicked. It’d make great comedy during a slow day. Just as he turned around again to apologize, the man was handing him a mess of napkins decorated with the same logo as his soiled top. Keith swallowed anxiously, not sure if he should accept until finally snatching them through the window and wiping himself down.

"I'm so sorry," the man said. "It was my fault –"

"No, no," Keith quickly said. "It was mine. I wasn't paying attention. You didn't do anything."

A thousand different scenarios flashed through his head. What would his manager think about his accident? What would Pidge think, after buttering him up so well right before she left?

"It happens. We're all human. You don't need to get me another one."

"Are you sure?" Keith asked skeptically. "We really can. It was my fault."

"Don't take the blame for it. Just a little mistake," the man laughed. "Thank-you, though. Take this – it’s a tip."

Keith accepted it and counted, his mouth slack trying not to show his cringe.

"Goodbye now. Please come back again soon to the Twin Moon," Keith recited. He felt his soul physically strip itself away from his body when the man smiled at him again. _What a doofus,_ he thought. What an idiot he was, making such a rookie mistake.

With that, he reached over the window and took the tip. Keith thanked him and tightened the wad of napkins in his fist as the car drove away. Knuckles white, Keith placed the tip in his pocket and slowly skated out from the gate, taking a moment to appreciate the raw orange of the sky overhead. A few beeping neon dots interspersed with stars made up the majority of silhouette surrounded by business signs and skyline. Only in the middle of all this was the Twin Moons, a tiny drive-thru restaurant with an animated, flash sign announcing itself to the rest of the world.

Keith made the lonely skate back to the lobby, checked in his earnings, and balled up his uniform to bring back home to wash. A mess of nerves securely planted itself in his stomach. The man's smile stuck with Keith, a brief flash of genuine happiness in the middle of his otherwise routine day. He didn’t see that many guys with white hair nowadays, Keith admitted to himself. But he was definitely attractive – he patted his pocket, reassuring it was still here, and felt himself lighten up inside. By luck’s hand, Keith was now a hundred dollars richer. Fortune was, surprisingly, on his side. Maybe it really was the _show_ he gave his mysterious stranger or – the other opinion being the other show he gave. Keith felt his stomach twist again, but this time not in disgust, but second-hand embarrassment at his actions.

Well, it was lucky he was hot. Of all people, Keith wasn't above a good-looking man treating him well. That was for sure.

He turned on the ignition, felt his own chest burn up a little.

A wash of dyed pinks and black formed the crown of the city skyline. Among it was the Twin Moons logo flashing idly, its animated palm trees swinging above illuminated drive-in stops. The sighs and exhaust of vehicle buried out the other sounds of the nighttime as Keith warmed up in the car, feeling his senses narrow into the events of his day. He learned a long time ago that level of scrutiny wasn’t wrong, that he was fine asking himself how he’d gotten to this chapter of his life. What he’d do to deserve stuck in a dead-end job, serving burgers, he wasn’t sure.

But if he knew one thing, it was that he was fascinated with the white-haired man who’d shown him such kindness. Such understanding. He shoved his cash tip in the glove compartment and brushed aside his hair, staring out the window before the ride home. Like the onslaught of billboard ads and signs, Keith felt overwhelmed, as if a new weight had just been placed on his shoulder. His senses ablaze, suddenly aware of how dirty the air tasted, how much his lungs ached even now despite neither running nor skating. The ache in his chest was responsible for so much more: he’d been carried down by the monotony of his life so far, not sure what direction he was heading, what path he was running down. He’d been aching for something deeper than that, more substantial to his own growth as an individual.

A distant finishing line he’d still yet to reach – to put it plainly, a need for something more. Keith licked his dry lips and swallowed his pride momentarily. He had to road to hit. He had plans to make.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two coming soon! Thanks for reading.


	2. Guilty Pleasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith runs into his mysterious stranger again and contemplates making a special phone-call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks again to Rei for beta-reading this chapter.
> 
> tw: Some mentions of dysphoria and recreational drug-use. The rest of the chapter is fairly light.

Keith was in the middle of a stare-down with a radioactive-blue slushie. He hesitantly stirred it and sat cross legged during his break, pulled up his shorts and took a sip. Toxic thunderbolt raspberry. He made a face, sticking out his tongue as Pidge pointed and laugh.  
  
“I told you those were something else,” she announced. “I still have no idea why people still order them. Maybe that’s just how it is with promo drinks.”  
  
“Probably,” Keith added. From Pidge’s reaction he assumed his tongue was now a hideous blue he’d need to get rid of later. He exhaled and finished the drink as slowly as he could to prevent an unwanted case of brain freeze. A box fan with streamers blew in their direction full-blast. Pidge had momentarily taken off her top, lounging in her sports bra nursing an equally radioactive-looking slushie.  
  
“Seriously though, this shit is nasty,” Pidge quipped. She finished the slushie and shot it across the locker-room into the trash. When it landed into the bin, Keith and her high-fived.  
  
It was a painful hundred-degree day. They were going to have to survive it. Somehow. Pidge joked about wanting to leave, that the heat was unbearable, and she would probably book it early again. Keith raised his brow, skeptical, but all too familiar with Pidge's insistence to tell her to wait until the heat broke at least. When their time was eventually up, Keith watched Pidge brush the sweat off her belly and slip a fresh logo-clad top back on.  
  
"So," Pidge started. "Did he tip you?"  
  
Keith blinked. He swore the weather was determined to fry parts of his brain by now. After he realized what Pidge was referring to, he managed to recreate the scene from yesterday in his mind. A lavish white car. A well-dressed, white haired man with a prosthetic arm – clearly a high-end model, who showed him nothing but politeness even after he made a dumb mistake. Keith felt his chest tighten, not sure what to make of the situation in its entirety, but still felt pressed to learn more about the mysterious man nonetheless.  
  
"Yeah, he tipped pretty well, actually," Keith admitted. "I accidentally spilled his drink but he was cool with it. Sort of an embarrassing incident, but whatever. He was polite about it." He shrugged and wiped the back of his neck with a towel. Pidge smirked, got up and stretched until her shoulder popped.  
  
"Seems like he liked you," Pidge teased. “Maybe you got yourself a new boyfriend.”  
  
"Shut up," Keith shot back. He followed her lead and stretched, tying his shoes back on and grabbing his rollerskates on the way. "I don't flirt with customers. You know that."  
  
"Wow. And that's the biggest pile of horseshit I've ever heard you say."  
  
"Well," Keith huffed. "It's none of your business anyways."  
  
"Just remember to smile when you serve," Pidge recited with a cheerful façade. "And you'll be reeling in the cash in no time."  
  
A bell rung – their cue to leave. With a satisfied laugh, Pidge hurried out the door while Keith lingered, his thoughts a rapid swirl of questions. Would the same customer show up again or -- would he have to stay vigilant, eyes constantly peeled for his mystery man? His stomach didn't seem to settle any better at the thought, and Keith took this as his signal to follow Pidge, occupy himself with the rest of his shift until he finally got the opportunity to dwell in thought.  
  
It took a week until Keith saw the white vehicle pull into the drive-in again. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him until he finally realized it was the real deal. Carefully, he tightened the straps on his rollerblades and swiftly took the order into his hands. The rest of the evening had been painfully slow given the temperature outside, and not many regulars seemed to have the incentive to travel to a drive-in during a record high heatwave. But as the sun began to set, and the neon sign of the Twin Moons began to glow stronger in the dusk, Keith pieced together an image in his mind – of him and the mysterious customer driving off into the sunset.  
  
It wasn't the first time Keith had gone astray in his daydreaming. Neither was it the first time he had the same fantasy of running away with a handsome stranger, dropping all his worries like they were dead weight. Specifically, _this_ stranger, Keith reminded himself.  Someone who looked like they gave a damn about themselves. It was a fantasy Keith thought would never materialize just based on its outlandishness. Pidge occasionally entertained them, but for the most part Keith preferred to keep them private, away from criticisms of anyone that would question his intentions. He’d be seen as more mature that way, not going out of his way to approach handsome strangers. It was a fun fantasy but just that – an escape from the otherwise mind-numbing monotony of a color-saturated food service gig. He caught a glimpse of Pidge serving another station but denied himself the urge to wave. He wanted to keep this interaction as neutral as possible, keep his mind focused before he accidentally scandalized himself again.  
  
“Hello, again,” Keith chimed as he skated up to the vehicle. The headlights flashed on again as the car turned back on. Keith felt goosebumps trail up his arms, excited to catch another glimpse of the man’s gorgeous white hair. Keith saw the corner of the man’s mouth curl to a smile, clearly glad to be served by his favorite employee once more.  
  
Keith adjusted the headband pulling his bangs back. He didn’t necessarily need to wear it while it grew darker outside, but he figured it was cute, showed off more of his face this way.  
  
“Slushies again?” Keith asked.  
  
“Yes, like always. Got a soft spot for them.”  
  
“Well, whatever’s good for you,” Keith hummed. “Let me guess, this is your guilty pleasure?”  
  
The man laughed. Keith swallowed, tightened his grasp on the tray. There was no way in hell he was going to make the same mistake twice. He couldn’t even begin imagining how he’d handle the embarrassment again -- other than running and hiding. Of course, that wouldn’t be possible now that he was almost literally a deer in the headlights, face to face with the man he couldn't get out of his head now. Was it really about the money now or – Keith felt his chest pound, heart rapidly throb as if he was back running laps on his trail back home. Not here in a neon lit drive-in in the middle of a concrete jungle, swarmed by business ads and neon.  
  
That’s when it clicked in Keith’s mind – this guy was old-fashioned, clearly an individual with taste. The car model of course was a recent one that didn’t require any fossil fuels to operate, but still carried the visage of a model several hundred years-old. Knowing Pidge’s fascination with tech, it was likely why she kept bugging him about the man, not if he actually tipped big or not.  
  
Only if Keith bought that, though. He rolled his shoulders, arching his back so as to accentuate his tits under his tight uniform. Sometimes he felt as if it were pinching right into his flesh, but he never complained. Hell, he signed up for the job well-informed exactly what kind of institution this was. And nothing was holding him back from fully employing the chain’s “mission” in front of a well-paying customer.  
  
In other words, he was shameless, and damn well knew it. He exaggerated reaching over the car window, lifting the hem of his shirt only slightly to give him a view. Keith tried to hide his face, which was burning red at the gesture, almost as if he were doing something entirely against the ethos of his job. The double-moon logo on his top happily bounced. He wanted to prove his point, be as committed to his shamelessness as he could.  
  
“There’s no such thing as a guilty pleasure,” Keith teased. “I mean, come back at often at you’d like.”  
  
“Are you flirting with me?” he man asked. Keith handed him the tray. Even in the dimmed light, Keith swore he was still bright red, feeling somewhat scandalized by the entire ordeal.  
  
“No – I,” Keith started. “I’m not yet.”  
  
“Here’s my number.”  
  
_Oh fuck,_ Keith thought. If his mind was scrambled, here he was rushing to collect all the pieces before he made absolute fool of himself again. Hurriedly, he accepted the man’s tip, which he realized had a note with scribbled handwriting. Keith tried to shove it back into his pocket at quickly as possible, but instead found himself in an awkward spot – he was beyond deer in the headlights now. Now he just felt like fresh roadkill, hit by a fast-moving car and just left there absolutely stunned and paralyzed. At first, he couldn’t believe things were adding up so quickly, but then it dawned on Keith that he was still standing in the middle of the drive-in, in a skimpy pair of booty shorts and crop top. The electric Twin Moons sign hummed overhead, a single spark leaping from its kitschy neon-border.  
  
“My name is Shiro,” the man said. He waved at Keith, beautiful smile catching Keith like the world’s biggest net. “Let’s just keep this between us, alright? You’re cute.”  
  
“Thanks,” Keith muttered. He covered his mouth, then hastily brushed his hair back over his headband.  
  
“Please come again soon.”  
  
“Will do,” Shiro chimed before rolling up his window. “You take care of yourself.”  
  
Naturally Keith could call off the entire episode as a freak-encounter. But unlike the rest of his coworkers, Keith preferred to consider himself an opportunist, someone who didn’t quit when they ought to. Not that he hadn’t dealt with his fair share of creeps on the job before – this time, however, he was going assume all responsibility for what would ensue.  
  
It was bait, alright. And Keith was biting. A hundred-dollar tip was nothing to laugh at.  
  
He clenched the note, silently praying to himself that he didn’t forget about it in the laundry. As the car exited the lot, Keith warmed up his skate, rolling his heel back and forth before zipping back into the lobby, feeling his muscles loose and breezy in the cool dusk air.

 

* * *

  
  
There was an elephant in the room Keith needed to address: a charming white-haired elephant with a nice car and nicer body. He typically didn’t like older men, but something about Shiro lured him in. He had a self-assurance about him that Keith could appreciate, even if he’d only seen snapshots of the man and not exactly the full picture. If his shameless stunt hadn’t gone so well, Keith decided Shiro would’ve brushed it off without comment or judgement. Keith knew he was reckless -- he wondered as much of Shiro, if he had ever been as foolish in his entire life. Could there be such a thing as a flawless personality untouched by cynicism nowadays? Did Shiro ever have a rebellious streak? Keith’s mind wandered, lost astray in imaging who exactly this man was, could be, might’ve been.

The ceiling fan in his tiny bedroom was running at full speed, making quiet noises in the dead silence of night. Keith rolled over and squirmed out his binder, exhausted with feeling his ribs be crushed together for hours on end. When he was liberated, he flopped back into the duvet and buried himself into an impromptu tower of pillows. They felt cool right atop his face, vaguely comforting despite the fact they were towered one after another on him. The television was off. A knick-knack shelf full of pocket-knives and toys from his childhood sat below, highlights by a series of framed, dusty photographs he couldn't remember taking. A mess of outdated magazines and newspaper smothered each other on the ground shelf, mixed with an overflowing pile of laundry escaping the basket like a mutated swamp creature. A white pair of cowboy boots modified to somehow include a pair of rollerblades stood abandoned in the corner, as if it’d tried to run into the closet but only made it halfway before meeting its untimely end. It was a gag present from Pidge.  
  
Keith groaned. A motorbike roared past his window. He hated living right by the highway. Everything and everyone was so loud.  
  
Shirtless, he propped his phone between his knees and stomach, scrolling through his text messages. The rolled-up piece of paper with Shiro’s number sat beside him, a slight afterthought he didn’t bother with until a notification from Pidge lit up the screen.  
  
_You got his number?_ She texted him. The tone was skeptical. Keith wished he were joking.  
  
Keith fumbled with his baggie next to him and lit a blunt he’d rolled last night. Courtesy of Pidge for a hard day’s work. He didn’t care anymore. It was a dirty habit he didn’t plan on kicking any time soon. Trying to balance his phone between his knee and chest, Keith inhaled and typed a response back.  
  
_Yeah, he gave it to me like it was nothing,_ he wrote back. _Should I call?_  
  
_Should you call? Of course, jeez,_ Pidge answered. _You’d be an idiot not to._  
  
_Thanks,_ Keith thought. He told Pidge he’d think about it and placed his phone back down. A puff of smoke left his mouth, floating in the air before disappearing into nothing. A comforting numbness washed over his body, easing his muscles, relaxing the tension he’d built up throughout the day. He didn’t mind the occasional smoke -- hell he’d be lying if he said he didn’t make a habit of it. Keith stared down at his chest, and frowned. He really needed to save up for top surgery – that was the entire point of working at Twin Moons, anyways. It was funny in an ironic way, using his natural endowments as an excuse to get work. He took another breath, puffing out the curls of smoke in slow succession. Maybe he’d just collect the tips from his regulars and get a move on with his life. He didn’t need to stay there forever, not if his entire job was going to be objectifying his body. Plus, after surgery he was sure he’d be fired for being too flat, or at least leave after taking off to recover. That part of the plan was messy -- not as meticulously planned out as other parts of life, which he admitted weren’t so thought-out to begin with. After another puff, he rolled on his back, lifting himself up on his elbow, and unrolled the paper next to him. The ten-digit scribble stared back innocuous.  
  
It couldn’t hurt. He might just be a lonely guy looking for someone to talk to. Sometimes he wondered if men would ever be attracted to someone like him, medical intervention or not.  
  
Keith scratched his chest, coping a tired feel while he read back the numbers to himself. Mouth taut in a fine line, he glanced at his phone and shrugged. Deciding to work against his natural inhibitions, Keith stopped lazily playing with himself to dial the number, finishing the rest of his bud before setting it aside. A thin string of ember flickered as he put it out while waiting for the phone to ring. The worst possible scenario was a flat-out rejection to speak to him, Keith thought. Or that Shiro was in fact some massive creep out to get an unexpecting kid like him into his pants. Keith cringed at the thought, rubbing the bridge of his nose in discomfort as the phone continued to ring. Maybe he wouldn't pick up. Maybe he was just assuming the worst only because he could.  
  
The phone picked up. Keith sucked in his breath, felt as if a horse kicked him right in the lungs.  
  
“Hello?” a familiar voice asked.  
  
“Shiro?”  
  
“Oh. Keith. I didn’t expect you to call back this early.”  
  
“Is this a bad time?”  
  
“No,” Shiro answered. Keith heard some movement in the background, the opening and closing of a drawer, some footsteps. “This is fine. I’m glad you called. I wasn’t planning on you actually doing it, though. This is a nice surprise.”  
  
“Right,” Keith muttered. “Listen. What’s with all the tips? I don’t mind. But it’d be stupid of me not to be suspicious. What do you want from me?”  
  
Because in the end, they always want something, if nothing tangible, something stripped out of Keith’s own person like a sheet torn from a notepad. Keith tapped his knee, scratched his shoulder, teasing out the words from Shiro’s voice ringing from the speaker of his phone. A pause, followed by another pause, followed by a painstaking silence that eventually touched Keith’s nerve.  
  
“You want to know something? I’m a guy, alright? I’m not some quick lay. You better get that through your head. Just because you hand me tips doesn’t mean shit.”  
  
“That’s rather harsh,” Shiro answered. “You didn’t even give me a chance to answer.”  
  
Keith scoffed. Maybe he was getting a little too irritable. Maybe this guy genuinely deserved a chance, that Keith just needed to peel him a little further. Push him and see what was really until that shiny and clean exterior. Push hard enough to see if he was pushed back.  
  
“Okay, tell me,” Keith said.  
  
“I don’t care – you can tell me as much as you feel comfortable you. I just think you’re attractive. I don’t go to Twin Moons too often. I saw you, and just wanted to know you better.”  
  
“Hell of a place to meet your sweetheart,” Keith chided. “I’m thinking of about seven other places you could’ve gone to other than Twin Moons. But I guess I’ll take the compliment.”  
  
“—And I’m saying you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I know I’m just a stranger. You have no reason to trust whatever I’m saying.”  
  
“Well, it’s not like I got anything better to do,” Keith moaned. “It’s the weekend tomorrow. I’m off. What is it you’re looking for? Are you just some lonely businessman? Is that it?”  
  
Keith lost himself in his ceiling fan. Its perpetual movement reminded him of the conversation he was stuck in, winding around and around itself with no clear goal in mind. He felt the air suck itself dry out of his chest, wondered where that silent pain came from. How come it was so consistent, persistent in reminding him of its existence ever since he realized what a joke his life had become.  
  
Wearing skimpy outfits under beaming neon, spilling brightly colored slushies all over his tits, looking like some summer-themed bimbo. He rolled his eyes, contemplated lighting another smoke before he finally heard Shiro’s voice resurface from the speaker.  
  
“Let’s grab coffee, okay?”  
  
“You like guys?” Keith insisted. “I’m a guy. Just so you know that. I’m in the middle – of a lot of things right now. I’m not going to be stuck doing this forever, okay? If anyone finds out I’m talking to you, I’m fired. This shit has to be private.”  
  
“Who said it won’t? I’m just making an offer. I work a salary job. It gets boring.”  
  
“Just a casual thing,” Keith said. “I’ll meet you if you want. I pick the place.”  
  
“That sounds nice to me,” Shiro replied. Keith swallowed, closed his eyes for a few seconds. His voice wasn’t too bad – it was smooth, assuring. In any other circumstance, he would believe anything he’d say without batting an eye.  
  
“Why the money though – I’m not some hooker,” Keith put it bluntly. “You’re not fooling me with this nice guy crap. I server burgers with my ass hanging out. Totally different thing.”  
  
“It’s just a gesture. I can stop if you’d like.”  
  
Keith chewed on his lip. An extra hundred would definitely help. Another extra hundred would help even more. He’d be a fool to pass it up. But that also mean he didn’t need to act like one to get what he wanted, either.  
  
“You’re a nice guy, I’ll give you that,” Keith admitted. “But that’s it. Talk to me in-person tomorrow. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”  
  
“I’m glad we spoke. I wasn’t expecting anything to happen – I’m just glad, is all.”  
  
“Why’s that?”  
  
“You called first,” Shiro answered. “I don’t think I need to say anything else, do I?”  
  
Keith silently cursed himself, and then the rest of the world. While he didn’t exactly give Shiro his number, he made a good point -- he did make the first move. He’d have to tell Pidge about this later, confess that he admittedly put himself in the hot seat this time around. But it would’ve equally killed him not to call, either, to leave the phone untouched with a mysterious rolled up note just waiting there to be discovered. It’d be another kind of foolishness altogether.  
  
“Fine,” Keith groaned. “You got me there. I’ll text you. Be ready.”  
  
“I will. Thank-you,” Shiro answered.  
  
Keith hung up. The  screen on his phone beckoned him with a contact list full of names of friends, family members, co-workers. He eyed Pidge’s number, considering shooting her a quick message, but decided against it. The posters on his wall stared down at him, images of bands, psychedelic patterns fenced in in his bed. They were his from childhood, relics from a time long-gone, but still fresh and present in his mind. Keith wondered if he’d find the answer to what to do with the mess that’d become his life here, in this tiny bedroom, with only the voice of a man he’d met only twice connecting him to the outside world.  
  
The contact list blinked in front of him, an empty space where Shiro’s number was neatly displayed. Keith tapped it, cuing as prompt asking him if he’d like to save the contact. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it, Keith thought. He’d knit himself a tangled web of relationships over the years that never quite panned out. This, however, felt strangely new, relevant in a way that didn’t demand he lay everything out the table. Shiro was odd. And Keith’s imagination tripped over itself, caught in its own trap wondering who exactly this man might be. And whether or not the lazy glow of a palm-tree neon sign genuinely anything to do with this sudden spark of attraction.  
He deleted the number and rolled over in bed.

  
This was a problem for another day. He’d keep running from it for now. Sleep on it. That’d always worked for him. His body ached, sore not just from work, but from the usual weight of discomfort Keith carried on his shoulders every day. He was so close – he only needed to sprint to the finishing line now, play it as neat as possible, leave without causing a mess. Anything and anyone left behind would just have to catch-up with him and the wreck he’d inevitably leave behind.

  
_Shiro,_ he thought, _I hope you know what you’ve gotten into._  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed this!


	3. No sugar, no spice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith accepts Shiro's invitation, but it soon becomes apparent he has other plans in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, this chapter includes explicit use of afab language that dives into some questionable sex. Don't like, don't read, etc. If that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to skip the second-half of this chapter. Otherwise, please enjoy.
> 
> Again, very special thanks to Rei for beta-reading this pic and helping edit all my technical hiccups. I'd be a mess without them.

****Keith fumbled with the button on his shorts. They were worn down from excessive wearing, a sign of them being his favorite pair to take on outings. He didn't quite discriminate between clothes compared to other people he knew, but that was primarily because he'd been raised to make use of everything until it either broke or become unusable. At this point, he didn't care much for the frayed hem of his shorts, nor the fact that sometimes they felt as if they were about to cut off the circulation in his thighs. They'd become a comfort he'd grown used to, some sort of regularity in the overlapping mess that was his life.

He calmly sat outside a coffee shop not far from his apartment. He wore a red windbreaker over his button-up top, nothing flashy. A small scattering of cigarettes butts laid strewn on the ground as he flicked his smoke. Bored with watching them descend, Keith changed his focus on the cars driving past the shop's signage, counting them as he came. He kept his eyes peeled for a specific white vehicle, desperate to see it roll up any moment now in front of the cafe.

 _Shiro_? What kind of guy hooks up with a waiter at a sleazy drive-in, Keith wondered. He felt as if he was wandering through his own daydream, pushing through his own insecurities just to arrive at the conclusion that this wasn't entirely insane. That he definitely wasn't falling into some dubious scheme meant to harm him or anyone else.

Eventually the car pulled up. At first, Keith hesitated until Shiro pulled down the window, greeting him with slick nod. He greeted him, eyes scanning the interior of the car to see if it’d somehow changed since their last meeting. Shiro asked if he was getting in and Keith’s attention clicked back to the other man, who had both hands on the wheel, head tilted while he asked the question. Keith got inside, thanked Shiro for picking him up, and buckled himself into the passenger seat. Shiro pulled into the parking lot, both hands on the wheel as if he were deep in thought only moments before Keith interrupted him.

“How are you doing?” Keith asked. He thumbed his windbreaker pockets, reassuring himself that they were closed.

“It could be worse,” Shiro sighed. He leaned back into his seat, eyes half-open, channeling a deep-seated exhaustion. Keith felt his mouth twitch, not sure what to make of the response until Shiro gestured at the unlocked doors..

“Let’s get some coffee first,” he announced. “On me.”

“I thought we’d go somewhere else --”

“I’ve been here before. Have you?”

“No, not exactly,” Keith admitted. He blushed. He didn’t know what to say. The cafe had always existed partially in his imagination, a place that certainly existed but never somewhere he would actually visit. Keith simply didn’t do well on public outings -- he prefered drinking his coffee alone, in his kitchen, on a bright morning without any interruptions. This was new -- this was definitely pushing him outside his typical comfort level. Shiro laughed at Keith’s obvious reaction, opened the doors, and led the way into the cafe.

It was quaint, if Keith had to describe it one word. It vaguely reminded him of other chain coffeeshops he’d been to in the past, but smaller, cozier. A ceiling fan rotated overhead, and cool air conditioning greeted them as they entered. Shiro secured a small table for them by the window, and went to go get two plain black coffees. “No sugar, no cream,” Keith told him.

“Oh, that’s how I like mine too,” Shiro replied. He turned to wait in line. Keith’s eyes inevitably wandered to the ground, then to the curve of Shiro’s khaki’s over his ass, the way they hugged him. They looked tailored definitely not something Keith could ever imagine owning himself. He inhaled deeply, flustered moreso by the thought of Shiro turning around to catch him checking him out. To distract himself, Keith opened his texting app, surprised to see that Pidge was already sending him a storm of messages asking about his blind-date. 

> _He sounds like a winner,_ Pidge joked. _Taking you out to coffee on a Saturday morning._
> 
> _It’s not even brunch,_ Keith hastily wrote back. _He has a nice butt, though._
> 
> _I bet he does. You know he just likes you for your body,_ Pidge said. _He saw you at work and totally fell for the honey trap._
> 
> _So what? I’m an adult. I can’t do what I want?_
> 
> _Just be careful, alright?_
> 
> _Sure,_ Keith answered. _I’ll make sure not to burn my mouth._

By the time Shiro returned, Keith had put his phone aside, crossed his legs, and rested his chin on his palm staring outside. A few dozen cars had driven past in the duration, none of which were nearly as interesting as the one Shiro had arrived in. In the distance, he could catch a glimpse of the city skyline where he typically took the bus to work. But given the summer weather, Keith had grown accustomed to driving himself, and forgot what the scenic route of his neighborhood looked like on a usual day. Without the mess of flashing signs to blind him, Keith found it weirdly fixating to look out in any direction and not immediately see a claustrophobic skyscraper or business building. The only place for miles seemed to be his apartment complex, the coffee shop, and the road leading out to the suburbs.

“See something interesting?” Shiro asked.

“Not really,” Keith mumbled back. “I was just thinking. There’s not a lot of activity in this part of town.”

“Yeah, well,” Shiro said while setting down two cups of coffee, “I figured as much when I drove in. It seemed really…”

“...quaint,” Keith answered.

“Exactly. It’s smaller than the city, quieter.”

“You go out much? You work at an office, right?” Keith accepted his designated mug, stirred the coffee gently, and stared into the deep, rich black color. “I can’t imagine doing that for a living. I’d go insane.”

“You get used to it,” Shiro admitted. “If anything, the job trains your patience more than anything. I didn’t really like it when I started, either, but it eventually grew on me. Funny how those things work out, right?”

“I suppose so.” Keith blew over his drink, cupping it with both hands. He watched the steam rise and curl, puff above the table and disappear. “I guess, I can’t sit still for too long. I’ll just get anxious. I can’t really explain.”

Shiro nodded. “That makes sense. To each his own.”

Keith snorted. So far this Shiro person seemed kind, if somewhat passive. Keith wondered what he was going to do with himself on a Saturday, and if this was a decent enough alternative. He didn’t hesitate changing the subject matter to Shiro, taking occasional sips from his coffee as Shiro began divulging about his personal life, work, what his hobbies were.

“I work for a small astrophysics lab,” he said. “It’s nothing too elaborate. It’s most for the local university, but it pays well and gives me enough time for my hobbies.”

Keith stirred his drink. He was interested in what Shiro had to say -- he’d never grown this close to a customer before, and certainly haven’t sat down with drinks with one before. His chest quickened -- he didn’t know what to say on his part, what parts of his life would be interesting to someone like Shiro.

“What hobbies?” Keith asked. "I can't say much for myself. I like collecting things. But that's it."

“Aerodynamics. I used to want to be a pilot.”

Keith laughed meekily -- not at Shiro, but at recognizing his own lack of interests in comparison. He collected knives, but that typically wasn’t information you gave away on the first date if you didn’t want to give the wrong impression.

“You want to fly?”

“Some day,” Shiro laughed. “It’s just a fantasy, though.”

“I’m not from here,” Shiro told him. “I’m from another city. Kerberos. I’m just finding my way around.”

“Then how did you find out about the Twin Moons?” Keith asked. “You said you’ve been going for a while, now. Have you visited before, at least?”

“Something like that,” Shiro laughed. “I’ve always dropped in and out of this city. That’s just how things are when you work for a lab like ours. This weekly thing at the Twin Moon is just recent interest of mine.”

Keith finished his coffee hastily. Shiro watched him with mild interest while he nursed his drink, savoring the taste while Keith apparently swallowed it whole. Supposedly most people took their time with their coffee, but Keith never saw the utility in that -- because coffee was the most utilitarian of beverages to begin with, anyways. Watching Shiro take his time was almost grating for Keith, forcing him on the edge of his seat while Shiro stirred his spoon, occasionally made eye-contact while in the midst of their conversation.

Keith rolled his shoulders and shrugged. A few more voices rose from the crowd of people now waiting in line while the baristas worked the machines. The sound of mechanical grinding and humming filled in the silence while Keith studied Shiro’s hands, patiently folded over the table. How polite, he thought. Keith typically couldn’t even figure out what to do with his hands to begin with. For all he knew, Shiro saw him as another pretty face, another boy to entertain himself with and move on from. Not that Keith minded -- he just hoped to linger a little longer, to see what Shiro was all about, what his intentions were.

“It’s getting loud,” Keith suddenly stated. He placed his cup back on the saucer, pushed it aside and stood up. “Let’s go back in the car.”

Shiro blinked, caught off guard by Keith’s sudden desire to leave. “Already? It’s only noon -- we’ve been here maybe, twenty minutes?”

“I can’t stand loud places,” Keith admitted. If he was being completely honestly, he rather preferred staying in his own head than anything else. Talking to other people was exhausting, and despite the caffeine he was already beginning to feel drained. “Let’s talk in the car. I’m getting bored, anyways.”

“If you say so,” Shiro trailed. “You feeling alright?”

“I’m fine.” Keith fixed his shirt and slipped his windbreaker back on. “I just don’t do well in crowds.”

“You like open space then?”

“Well, I’m not exactly claustrophobic, but I guess you can say that.”

Shiro smiled. Keith felt his chest tighten, breath stop as if his lungs had temporarily given up on him. Shiro’s face was undoubtedly attractive -- and Keith felt every ounce of himself slowly giving into the smallest display of genuine emotion on his face. After finishing his coffee, Shiro left a tip and the pair left for the parking lot, where Shiro let Keith back into the car and out of curiosity, turned to Keith. Keith combed through his black hair, pushing a strand behind his ear while Shiro stared him down, both hands resuming their position on the steering wheel while the other man made himself comfortable.

“I know a spot,” Keith started. He was uneasy, unsure of how to approach the topic delicately. His elbow planted itself against the car door, and he pressed himself comfortably against the seat cushion. “There’s a little alley by the apartment and some abandoned building. No one will notice us there.”

“What are you saying?” Shiro asked, clearly confounded by Keith’s implications. He blinked nervously, at first seeming surprised enough that Keith almost felt bad. But Keith, self-assured of himself as always, stirred in his seat like a flame that’d been repressed for too long. To put it simply, he was agitated with more than one thing about this Shiro, hungry in his own way for something new, something that didn’t carry the superficial tinge of city-living. His days so far seemed to resemble more of a mobius-strip of mundanity rather than proper living. Keith was, from his perspective, pressing his nose against the grindstone for too long with nothing to show for it. And here was a simple businessman with an attractive enough body, treating him kindly enough without a creeper disposition. Keith wanted more -- at this point, he was ravenous for another shot at something interesting, anything to sharpen the dull-edge of his persistent need for momentum.

Without much encouragement, Keith convinced Shiro that his intentions were in fact, in his favor. He stripped off his windbreaker, made an annoyed noise with his mouth, and calmly crossed his arms.

He shifted his weight in the seat, felt his phone vibrate aggressively in his back pocket. Cursing himself under his breath, Keith swiftly pulled it out to check. Shiro apparently didn’t mind while Keith scrolled through the barrage of messages Pidge had sent him -- at the worst time possible, no less. Hurriedly, he typed back a response and slipped it back away. 

> _You’re being awfully quiet,_ Pidge wrote. _I hope you didn’t burn yourself._
> 
> _I’m not an idiot._
> 
> _That’s exactly what someone as bullheaded as you would say. I bet you’re feeling lucky._
> 
> _I am._
> 
> _Lucky?_
> 
> _If not, cursed,_ Keith wrote.

“If everything alright?” Shiro asked.

“Peachy-keen,” Keith answered. “It’s nothing. I was just responding to something. It wasn’t major.”

“I want what you want, right? Let’s just get to it, then, no stupid bullcrap,” Keith said. “And I’m feeling up to it anyways. I’m bored. You must be too, right? Traveling back and forth all the time without anyone or anything?”

“That’s not -- that’s not exactly the case,” Shiro stammered. “I mean, if you insist, I’ll be happy to take you there.”

Keith laughed. “Oh, you can take me _there_ all you want. I’m just saying. If you keep this just between us, I’m sure both of us will get a kick out of it.”

“You like fun?” Shiro asked. Keith hoped he sensed Shiro letting his guard down. “If that’s what you’re looking for, then we can talk.”

“We’re talking now,” Keith insisted. He’d be as aggressive he wanted. He’d push many buttons as he wanted to get where he needed. And where he needed to be was anywhere other than here, anywhere that wasn’t starved for momentum and the kindling of a needy fire. “I think this is good enough.”

“You make a fair point,” Shiro confessed. “Maybe I wasn’t seeing eye-to-eye to you in the first place.”

“Well,” Keith answered. He smirked. “You can say I have that kind of influence.”

 

* * *

 

 

Like Keith promised, they found the spot. By the time Shiro’s car pulled into the alley, the sun was beginning to set, lessening the chance that they’d be caught. Still, Shiro made a preventative measure and pulled covered over the windshield, while Keith restlessly squirmed in his seat. When he was done, Keith wasted no time unbuckling his seatbelt to straddle Shiro’s lap, unbuttoning his own shirt and unclasping his binder. He didn’t have any immediate reservations -- so Keith thought _screw it,_ and happily offered himself to Shiro’s needy hands.

Keith moaned when Shiro groped the underside of his tits, squeezing as much as he could with one hand. Sitting on his lap in the car seat, Keith idly ground himself up against Shiro, his cut-off shorts digging into his fleshy thighs. With his top off, Shiro got the full view of Keith's chest spilling out, his tits waiting for attention. Keith always felt somewhat embarrassed about his cup size, but fortunately the Twin Moons put his body to good work. It was a mental game, sometimes, figuring that he could monetize his body while he could. He was just glad Shiro appreciated him this way.

Plus, it didn't hurt getting an extra attention from men like Shiro who wanted to get handsy with him. It felt good -- Shiro's big hands loved on his tits, cupping them and pinching his nipples with a determination to coax any reaction out from Keith. In a way, this type of behavior was comforting. Keith knew what to do to get the reaction he wanted. It was reliability at its most perverse.

So far, it was working. Keith's clit twitched in his shorts, begging for attention while Shiro's mouth began sucking on his nipple, teeth grazing them gently. Keith stifled a cry, rocking his hips back into the hardness pressed against his leg as Shiro hungrily toyed with his chest. He felt painfully lewd, a betrayal to his gender even wanting his parts to be played with like this. However, he knew it'd be mean to ignore Shiro's non-verbal pleads, to not give him what he wanted in his car in the back alley.

With one hand wrapped around the crook of Shiro's neck, Keith unbuttoned his shorts, shimmied out of them, and slipped out of his thong, revealing the glistening pink of his pussy. It was wet and ready, his hole throbbing to be split open and spent right then and there in the car. Sweat dripped off his bare back, the product of yet another summer night in this middle of nowhere desert town.

"You're so big, baby boy," Shiro hummed. "You really want these gone? I'm going to miss them."

"Well, I'm not the biggest fan," Keith admitted. Fingers dipped to his folds, rubbing them delicately as Shiro took a brief break from sucking his tits. "They're annoying. And they get in the way. When I get my shit together, it'll be for the best. Plus, my back hurts."

"That's a pity, I don't want my baby to hurt. You'll let me play with them as long as you have them, right?" Shiro made eye-contact, his expression earnest, only wanting the best for Keith.

"Of course," Keith answered. He'd be lying if he didn't admit it was partially for the money.

“You’re a good boy, Keith,” Shiro offered.

Keith needed Shiro to love him as a guy. Nothing felt more validating than Shiro calling his good boy, who just happened to wear skimpy clothes at a roller-skate themed drive-in. It felt right. And better, Shiro was paying him well with his company.

But Keith couldn’t quite place his finger on where he hypothetically might’ve gone wrong. It could’ve been when he caught the eye of the man driving the white vintage car at Twin Moons. The joint wasn't half bad if you ignored the fact that the employees delivered fries and shakes in booty shorts. Keith wasn’t very comfortable with it at first, but he needed the money and at that point in his life any option was his best option. The shorts rode up his ass and his crop top was too tight around his chest, but he made due anyhow. As long as he kept turning heads, he kept working.

Maybe it was when he noticed Shiro’s expensive tastes when he came skating to his car a few days ago. Maybe it was when he embarrassed himself by spilling a slushie all over his top. Or the most likely option -- he was bored out of his damn mind and saw a pretty man. Keith swore he’d suffered enough up to that point, but he guessed he was wrong. The stars aligned just to spite him in mixed messages, especially those that ended up with him in a horny stranger’s lap.

"You seem stressed," Shiro commented. He grabbed Keith's other tit, squeezing it tight until he left a reddish impression. Keith pitifully moaned and leaned back a bit against the glove compartment, his mouth slack. He let go of Shiro and shifted his weight so he was in a more comfortable position, cursing himself for jumping the gun and deciding to fuck in the front seats of all places.

"Just a bit," Keith lied. "It's hot as hell during the summer. I really don't appreciate having my clothes on in this weather, but what are you going to do about it?"

"You could always just stay inside," Shiro offered. The comment caught Keith off guard, making him laugh before wiping his damp forehead. He was badly sweating. Both of them were. Shiro had unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt, sighing in relief at finally getting the layer off in the summer heat. "Serve people indoors. Make them come to you while you roller-blade in air-conditioning."

"Yeah, right," Keith chided. Even just the idea of using his skates indoor made him want to roll his eyes. That was a disaster waiting to happen if he ever knew one. At least the uniform wasn't too sweltering -- Keith felt confident in his ability to balance and skate at formidable speeds towards parked cars. It was a skill he mastered in quickly, mostly due to his longing for thrills, to constantly be in motion. And for _thrill seeking,_ fucking in the front seat of a car during what should’ve been a simple coffee date was certainly something.

That was all before Keith dropped his bombshell. He'd remind Shiro he was a guy.  Not that Shiro's didn't take well to it, only that Keith wanted to be transparent as early as possible once they began their arrangement. Shiro whispered he would pick him up after particularly grueling shifts, find a quiet place to park, and have fun with an eager, yet somewhat anxious Keith.

 _Let’s make a regular thing out of it_.

Keith believed every word of it, that Shiro would come around again to spend his time with him. He shuddered at the feeling of Shiro’s hungry lips, and confessed to him that he was still a work in progress. That he didn’t feel as much as the man he knew he should be.

Shiro told him he would think about it, understood why Keith was going through the motions just to get to a better place in life.

 _Close enough,_ Keith thought. He kept his eyes on the prize straddled between his thighs, hard and ready for him. Keith swallowed his anticipation, feeling goosebumps rise on his neck as Shiro carded through his hair. If anyone shined a light on them, they’d be caught in second. Playing Russian roulette with public obscenity laws was not on Keith's agenda. Saying fuck it to the law, Keith’s hesitation was thrown away when he finally grabbed Shiro’s cock for himself, brows furrowed with thinly-veiled excitement.

“Whoa there,” Shiro gasped.

“I got to leave soon. I wasn’t planning on this -- I need a shower,” Keith muttered. “Give it to me now, or just don’t get it at all”

“Alright, alright” Shiro forfeited. Keith smirked and wiggled his hips, hands already fast at work on preparing Shiro’s cock. He couldn’t help but feel elated whenever he managed to win Shiro over, coax him into an agreement to reap all the rewards. This could be a good thing, Keith rationalized. It was a mutual partnership in spoiled behavior.

If they were going to make this a habit, they were going to play by Keith’s rules. Shiro was only too happy to oblige.

Without pause, Keith slipped off Shiro’s lap to the bottom of the car, kneeling between his legs with an excited purr. Shiro swallowed, dick hard and wet as he stared down Keith’s fierce violet eyes. Keith cupped his chest, his tits practically spilling over his palms around Shiro’s cock, gasping as he made contact with the hot skin. Shiro opened his mouth, but nothing came out as he stared down Keith’s round areola, warm, welcoming, and pushed tight against his arousal. Slowly, Keith began sliding his tits up and down his cock, the skin impossibly soft. It was as if Keith was just some fluffy cloud Shiro happened to land into, on this knees, fucking him with his chest in a car parked in an anonymous sleazy alleyway. Keith felt his pussy clench, pink and needy for attention, but he resisted the urge to touch himself just yet, instead prioritizing getting Shiro wet and ready

When he was satisfied, he licked at the head of Shiro’s cock, fluttering his tongue over it and swallowing diligently. With his tits hugging as much cock as they could, Keith proceeded to press his lips against Shiro’s shaft, pushing his throat to room as much dick as possible. Shiro was ablaze, mouth agape as he panted into his car seat, hips grinding delicately against the bobbing of Keith’s eager, slick tongue. Keith followed his lead, making  small, hungry popping noises as he sucked.

“You like that?” Keith gasped. He rolled his tits, slightly amused with their weight in his palms, his wrists feeling almost sore. Thinking about their size in any other circumstance made his stomach clench. But this time he felt his clit throb at the thought of touching them, squeezing them, watching them bounce for Shiro’s entertainment. This was impossibly lewd, the worst Keith has ever behaved. But he couldn’t help but appreciate the trashiness of it all either.

“You like that? A boy like me, fucking you?”

“God,” Shiro choked. “Don’t stop.” He was close. Keith could tell, feeling his cock twitch excitedly. To help, he pushed his tits closer together, adding friction and rubbing at a gentle, painfully slow pace.

“I won’t,” Keith added. He licked his lips, contemplating the salty taste. “I’m having fun, if you can believe me.”

“I’m sure you are,” Shiro panted. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

“No, I don’t.” Keith eyed his cock, wondering whether or not it’d be better to swallow. “Just consider this another of my recreational summer activities, alright?”

“I guessed as much.”

Keith swallowed Shiro’s come, rolling his tongue hungrily over his red swollen head before taking the rest of it. He felt Shiro roll his hips at the sensation, bucking his cock against Keith’s throat before he took the rest of him into his mouth. Pleased with this reaction, Keith released his cock again, only to swallow it whole again. His cunt throbbed as Shiro’s dick rubbed against the back of his throat while he pushed it deeper, thrilled to see that he could not only handle it, but that Shiro was enjoying it as well.Hurriedly, Keith finished sucking Shiro off, tonguing the rest of his come before palming the base of his shaft with a firm grip. When he was done with this, he cupped his chest together and glanced up at Shiro, who was completely flustered at the gesture.

“You want me to?” Keith asked. “I don’t mind.”

“Keith…” Shiro moaned.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Keith laughed. “It’ll feel good, I promise.”

Rolling his tits over Shiro’s cock, he squeezed them together gently until he found a rhythm he liked. Shiro’s breath hitched as Keith’s increased his pace, burying his cock as deeply as he could into his tits. Keith bit his lip, resisted moaning with all his might as he felt the slickness of Shiro’s cock envelop him, making soft, obscene noises as he felt him grow harder.

“How’s that?” Keith teased. He was feeling pleased with himself -- not for coming this far, but for getting Shiro ready to fuck him just by playing with his chest.

“Good,” Shiro sighed. Keith felt him play with his hair, stroking the back of his head as pearly white streaks of come began to dribble from his cock. “You’re doing so well, Keith.”

Satisfied with this much, Keith let go to sit on Shiro’s lap, repositioning himself again so as he straddled Shiro’s hips with enough room to move. He gave Shiro a chaste kiss, sucking on his bottom lip, slightly grazing it with his teeth before pulling away to focus on Shiro’s red, weeping member pressed up against his hungry folds. Keith gasped as he felt himself stretch open, not wasting another moment to fully position himself over Shiro’s cock, and sliding down to feel the full length of it against his walls.

Keith smirked at Shiro’s wandering hands land on his chest, pinch at the twin peaks of his nipples while leaning into the nape of his neck. Baring his neck, Keith closed his eyes and gave Shiro permission to leave a mark on him, grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin while firmly squeezing Keith’s breasts. A wet noise squeaked from between Keith’s legs as Shiro promptly pulled out, only to renter him with a greater force causing Keith to shudder. He curled his toes, shut his eyes, and made only small, defenseless noises while Shiro took hold of his hips to bounce him eagerly on his lap.

“Oh fuck,” Keith cried. “Oh fuck. Oh my god, Shiro.”

“That enough for you?” Shro asked.

“Fuck,” Keith gasped. “Yes.”

Shiro hummed, pleased to hear Keith’s reaction. Coping another feel for Keith’s chest, Shiro lowered his hands back to his hips, grounded Keith firmly in place as he rubbed the head of his cock against Keith’s folds. Keith moaned, eyes still closed, mouth agape as he leaned into Shiro’s neck, shuddering again at the sensation crawling up his spine. Never in his life did Keith imagination himself in this position — and yet clearly here he was, taking it from an absolute stranger in the middle of summer. A ray of light glared through the window from a street post, but fortunately the guard Shiro placed in the windshield blocked most of it. Keith opened his eyes momentarily to breathe in the scent of Shiro’s skin, warm and humid, the vague presence of steam raising up in the windows.

Summer nights like these felt implicitly transient, as if Keith was floating above himself, unaware of the rest of the world other than what electric currents he felt touched his person. Shiro touched him, wouldn’t stop touching him, touched him with a delicateness that Keith almost felt unworthy of given the circumstances of his being. He was a moth to the flame — coursing the frayed ends of a light that Shiro lured him into, hungry, needy, bored with everything else and satisfied by nothing.

When Shiro was finished with him, Keith patiently rode out the orgasm, rocking his hips lazily, body sore and sweaty. Pressed with a sudden urge to move, Keith spread himself open, closed his eyes again and started at his clit, massaging the hood beneath it as it hardened. However, he found his hand was overcome by Shiro’s, who eagerly took over to stroke its swollen underside, slide his fluids from his hole to lubricate it. Keith gasped at the gesture, raising his hips to grant him better access, fingers digging deep into Shiro’s shoulder a he diligently worked him. By the time Keith came, he felt his muscle clench and ease, finally relieve as he felt his stomach tighten, clit twitch as Shiro happily finished him off. A broken cry slipped from his throat as he leaned back, thighs spread wide away, a thin layer of sweat covering his entire body.

“How was that?” Shiro panted.

“That was fun,” Keith gasped. “I had a good time. If that’s what you’re asking me.”

Keith exhaled, rolled his shoulders to make sure he didn’t get stiff. While Shiro quietly buttoned his pants, Keith landed back on to the passenger seat. He crossed his legs, rather pleased with himself tonight. Snapping his thong and shorts back on, Keith contemplated wiping down his chest before buttoning his top back on, but decided on not giving it too much thought. He’d shower. He’d shower, crawl into his duvet, and fall asleep.

Keith thought tonight would make for sweet dreams.

“Drive me home,” Keith said flatly. “Thanks for the coffee date.”

“Sure thing —“ Shiro answered. Keith swore he heard hesitation, a nervous swallow while the man clearly attempted to recollect his nerves.

By the time they were both dressed, Keith rolled down his window, poking his head out to catch a glimpse of the street post outside. Up against the encased lightbulb was a cluster of moths buzzing helplessly against it, lost in a wild frenzy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this series was originally only going to be three chapters, but I realized I wanted a whole chapter for smut, so I guess the conclusion will be in chapter four. I'm not very good at planning these things out.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/watsnewbussycat) & [tumblr](https://watsnewbussycat.tumblr.com/)


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